


Impossibilities

by riverbanks



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Kink Meme, Exhibitionism, F/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 19:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7452091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverbanks/pseuds/riverbanks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for a prompt on the Kink Meme: "F!Inquisitor is frustrated with how Cullen is short tempered in regards to war table missions, so she decides to bend him over and fuck him right on top of that map with a strap on." Inquisitor is generic, fill in your favorite. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impossibilities

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt at: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/16181.html?thread=63020085#t63020085
> 
>  
> 
> This fic is also linked [on my tumblr](http://riverbanks.tumblr.com/post/147208239990).

 

“We’ll be having no disturbances.”

Cullen heard the large wooden doors to the war room being pushed closed behind him after a “Yes, Inquisitor!” muffled from under a helmet, and the resolute steps approaching him, but didn’t turn around to greet her -it was hardly surprising that she’d be back. It had been at least an hour since she’d left, dismissing the council for today -talks had become heated earlier this morning, and Cullen wagered she’d either come back to argue further, or clear the air between them now.

Cold fingers suddenly trailing up the nape of his neck sent a shiver down his spine, and Cullen let out a small sigh, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease up as she stepped around him and leaned in to plant a kiss on the corner of his lip, her fingers weaving through his hair now, softly scratching the scalp of his head like one scratches at the back of a cat.

“You really were impossible today,” she murmured, smiling against his mouth. “You’re always impossible, to be sure, but you were _inspired_ today.”

Cullen smiled too, then, relief washing over him. He’d half-expected this argument to carry on for days--Leliana and Josephine could generally be reasoned with, to a point, sometimes after tea, but when their Inquisitor got a notion stuck in her head--Maker help him, they’d be arguing it into the next Age.

“I’m sorry” he whispered back into her lips, putting his reports down on the table to turn at her. Putting his hands on her hips, he pulled her closer for a deeper kiss, both sharing the same breath as she wrapped her arms around him, stealing the apologies from his mouth with hers.

“I’m still right about that, you know” he teased with a grin, as she came up for air.

She laughed then, a clear sound echoing through the room, bouncing from the tall columns of stone, ringing back in his ears and silencing even the song of the lyrium constantly calling at him from the back of his mind. It was bliss, all the heaven he could ask for right here in his arms.

And then she was turning away, slipping from his hands to fumble with the pockets of her overcoat, discarded over the table. He watched as she lifted something from one pocket, but couldn’t tell what it was before it disappeared into the folds of her tunic.

There was a hand on his chest, and Cullen felt himself pushed against the edge of the table. So this was how it was going to be.

He glanced over his shoulder, but she was already sweeping the pins, papers and clutter behind him away with one hand as the other pressed him further. Despite having not one, but two private quarters of their own to take these untimely romps to, they were becoming quite adept at derailing flat, uncomfortable surfaces from their original purposes--his desk seemed to have taken to the slightest stagger already, and if they kept at this, soon the war table would follow suit.

Once the surface behind him was clear, Cullen sat up on the edge of the table and let her hand guide him backwards until he was almost lying down, propped up on his elbows to look up at her as she settled, stood between his spread knees. Her hands ran over his shirt, feeling the shape of his chest underneath, and Cullen felt another shiver building up as her fingers teased the tip of his nipples under the fabric. If it was possible, her hands were both soft and firm at the same time--pressing down on the planes of his stomach like steel, then fluttering to the curve of his neck, barely touching skin.

Cullen watched, half mesmerized, as her fingers did short work of the last bottoms on his jacket, then the lacings on his shirt, pulling the fabric aside to bare his breast to her touch. She leaned down over him, then, her hair covering their faces like a curtain as she pressed a quick peck to his lips, before trailing her mouth down to his jaw, his neck, the apple of his throat, leaving small bites on his skin with sharp teeth, then kissing it better. Her fingers trailed the way back up, weaving through the hair on his chest, a quick tug here, the scratch of a fingernail there just to make him hiss. Cullen let his eyes fall shut then, and his head lean back, inhaling sharply and holding back a moan at the tip of his throat as her teeth found their way to his left nipple, while her nails found their way to the right one.

“I’m gh-” he tried once, swallowing another hiss down before speaking again, “I’m glad we’re not holding grudges this time.”

There was her laughter again, ringing in his ears, drumming against his chest as she leaned her forehead on his collarbone and chuckled against his heart. Cullen’s brow started to furrow in question, but before he could word it in his mind, her nails cut a quick, jagged path down his chest and he hissed loudly, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. When he looked down again, she was smiling up at him, warmly, gently tracing the trail of angry red scratches on his skin with the tip of one finger.

“Oh, but I _am_.”

All the feeling of pressure on top of him was gone then, as she leaned back up. He watched as she raised her tunic enough to undo the lacings of her trousers, then let the folds cover her again in their fall as she pushed her leathers and smallclothes down her legs, denying him even a glimpse of her. He moved to touch her then, but she swatted his hand away and gave him a look that was enough to make him stay put.

He’d been wrong, then. She wasn’t letting this go at all.

One hand on his belt, and Cullen was being pulled up on his feet by the band of his trousers, like a bedchamber boy, and he almost felt he deserved it, for letting her trick him like this. She turned them around, leaning her hip on the edge of the table and resting his hands on each of her sides, letting him loom around her for a moment as she produced a small stone from her sleeves.

“Do you know what this is?” she asked, showing him the dark stone, carved with luminescent marks. 

“A rune,” Cullen shrugged, leaning to rest his forehead on the crook of her neck, curious where this was going now. “Not sure I want to know what it does.”

“Close your eyes,” she asked, and Cullen complied, letting himself relax into her.

He felt the faintest tug of magic emanating from the rune as a wave of warmth spread from it, and she pulled him closer against her. She planted a small kiss on his shoulder, and he felt her hand against his stomach, pressing the rune into him--it vibrated. Slightly, not enough to bother him, just enough to feel oddly… stirring. She ran the rune around his navel, slowly, letting the motion seep into him, warming his skin where it touched; then lowered it till it almost touched the trail of hair starting down below, and back up again, until the rune edged around his nipple, and when it touched the tip--Maker, it felt good.

Her free hand took one of his, bringing it between her legs, letting Cullen pull at the linen until he could feel his fingers grazing the curls there. As she pressed the warm, pulsating rune to his nipple and lowered her head to capture the other between her lips again, his fingers slid between the folds of her sex, stroking at her core until she was wet in his hand. With his other hand, Cullen pushed lightly under her chin, tipping her face upwards again so he could capture her mouth in a kiss.

Their lips were fire against each other’s, burning, soothing, a breath stolen between deep, long kisses. She melted into him as he slipped one finger inside her, and soon the rune was going downwards across his chest again, leaving trails of heat sparked in him, until her hand sneaked under the band of his trousers, his smallclothes, not even bothering to undo the lacings, and-- _Maker_.

He had never felt anything like this.

The rune seemed to awaken in her hand, turning even warmer at the touch of his cock, pulsing faster as she slid it against the tender skin there. He worked another finger into her, pushing deeper, and she responded with a tight grip on his cock, letting the rune vibrate against it as she jerked him in his pants, slow but firm, just the way he’d shown her, just the way to drive him mad.

He breathed hard against her mouth now, working his fingers faster inside her, harder, wetter, stronger, until she finally broke, her eyes snapping shut as she cried out her pleasure, trembling against his hand. The room was filled with the smell of her, and Cullen felt intoxicated, drowning in it even as her hand continued to jerk him closer and closer to completion; one, two, one more, he was almost--almost--

And she was gone.

“Not yet,” she breathed into his mouth, the glint in her eye making Cullen want to scream.

He slumped forward, leaning into the table and gasping for air as she moved away, and his climax dispersed without her touch. She was fumbling with her coat again, but this time, when she caught him watching, she turned him away, making him face the table as she slipped behind him.

“What is this?” he asked, but her only answer was taking his hands and placing them firmly over the table, then laying one hand on the small of his back and leaning him slightly forward, as her foot tapped his to spread them a bit farther.

Cullen felt her pressing against his back, feather kisses peppered over his shoulder blades as her hand sneaked back around him and into his trousers again, taking hold of his cock and thumbing the tip lightly. He pushed back against her, once, then stilled and let her play with his cock, rubbing the rune lightly against him even as her other hand palmed his ass under his smallclothes behind him, one finger wetter and colder than the rest sliding between his buttocks and--

Ah. _This_ was how it was going to be.

He took a deep, steadying breath, feeling her finger rest at his entrance, massaging him without pressure. Her lips were still on his skin now, as her left hand thumbed the tip of his cock absently, awaiting permission. She would have him, any way she wanted, that was never the question. He would be hers, no matter how. Cullen let out the breath he’d been holding, grabbed a firmer hold of the table and leaned forward, spreading his feet wider, then rolling his shoulders and trying to relax himself down there too. 

He could feel her smile against his shoulder, another soft kiss, and then her finger was pushing in. Slowly, carefully, one little push at a time as Cullen steadied himself and tried not to fight back -they’d done this before, once or twice, but he wasn’t used to the sensation yet, and it wasn’t exactly easy for him to relinquish control and let her take the reins of their bedding. He rolled his neck, willing himself to relax, and then her other hand was sliding the rune down his cock again, and further down, until she was pressing it into his balls. The pulsing against his most sensitive place sent ripples all through him and wiped all thought from Cullen’s mind, and before he knew it, she had her whole finger buried into him.

“You really were _quite_ impossible today, Cullen,” she chided, moving her finger in a circle, stretching him slowly as the wet tip of a second finger already ghosted against his entrance. “I understand you have little patience for court business, but if I’m asking for your advice...”

Cullen gasped as a second finger entered him. “Then I need your advice,” she continued. “And ‘No’ isn’t advice.”

“What I mean to say, is,” she went on, one hand cupping his balls still, rolling the rune between them even as her fingers on the other hand turned inside him, taking the shape of a hook and pushing a little deeper. “Even if it’s boring, I need you to stay here with me.” He gasped again as she touched something inside him that sent a jolt up his spine. “Are you with me, Commander?”

The hand on his cock left him, tugging his trousers down to his knees. For a moment he could feel something cold and wet spilling over her fingers, then they were inside him again, working him loose. “Y-yes, Inquisitor,” he rasped, his voice breaking as she found that same spot again.

She worked him a few moments longer still, spreading her fingers inside him, pulling them out and in again - not quite what they’d done before, but not an unpleasant feeling either. Eventually she stopped, pulling her fingers completely out and wiping them on a cloth, before coming around him to look him in the eye, her face looking different now -serious, all the previous tone of joking gone.

“Listen,” she said, running a hand along his face. “I want to try something different today. If you don’t like it, if it doesn’t feel comfortable, _tell me_. I’ll stop.”

Cullen studied her face, looking for the sign of a jest, but she was entirely serious about this. He thought, for a moment, to ask, but there was no need -he knew he would trust her already, in whatever she came up with.

“Alright,” he answered, sealing his agreement with a quick kiss.

She smiled then, and turned to the bundle of clothes on the table to produce the strangest contraption Cullen had ever seen: a looping of belts, of sorts, with one piece molded in glass in the likeness of a… shaft, so to speak, strapped to one end; and a second, smaller one, strapped to another.

She giggled a bit - _giggled_ , like a child finding the cookie jar on the pantry- and looked at him with an amused glint in her eye, tapping the smaller shaft. “This one is for me,” she said, then held the bigger one before his eyes. “And this one is for you.”

Cullen gaped, staring at the shaft in dark glass standing proud before him. It wasn’t of remarkable length or girth, he noted, thinking she might’ve been careful to choose one… smaller than him. He felt silly at the thought of measuring his cock against a likeness in glass, and yet he couldn’t deny it felt--reassuring.

She was looking at him now, watching his face. He’d agreed to it in the dark already, but Cullen knew if he backed out now that he’d seen what she planned, she’d respect his wish. It was strange, he admitted. This was beyond anything he could have imagined would be in her bedroom tastes, and yet... the more he thought of it, the more the notion of her taking him, in the most intimate way, the way he’d taken her so many times before--it stirred something in him, sending a spark of need right to his cock.

“How does it…?” he rasped, voice half-caught in his throat. 

She nodded, as if reassuring herself, then backed into the table and raised one of her knees to rest over it. Turning the belt around to press the smaller shaft into one of his hands, she took the other one and guided it back to her sex, huffing awkwardly at the sight of them. “Help me put this one on?”

Cullen nodded, joining her in amusement at the strange position they found themselves into. He took his mouth to her ear, nipping lightly at the tip as his fingers slid into her again. She sighed, rubbing herself against the palm of his hand as he digged his fingers in and out of her in slow circles, until he could feel her getting wet in his hand again. When she was ready, he coated the small glass shaft in her wetness, brought it down to her mound and pushed it into her in a single, sharp thrust, watching her face as her mouth shivered around a silent moan.

“You’ll pay for that,” she gasped into his ear, laughing as he brought the straps around her waist and buckled them together.

He looked down at the sight of her as he finished: half propped on the war table, the peaks of her nipples poking through the linen of her tunic, the straps around her legs, and from between them, from the center of her -and his- pleasure, a shaft of darkened glass standing in challenge, the tip prodding against his stomach.

“I’ve no doubt I will,” Cullen answered, putting his hand up in mock resignation to his fate.

She pushed him away, lightly, a joke between them to ease the tension before the next part. Then she was pushing his shirt and jacket down his arms, pulling the tunic over her head as he stepped out of his trousers at last. After a moment to look at the two of them like this, as the Maker had made them for love, and some other games like it too, she stood up and stepped behind again, her hand at the small of his back, pushing him gently down on the table.

Cullen let himself rest on his elbows, grabbing the edge of the table for leverage as he felt the warm, oily feeling of whatever she was covering her fingers in before prodding at his entrance again. He willed himself to relax as she worked him with her fingers again, spreading them like scissors inside him, and when she finally decided he was ready, Cullen felt her fingers leave him and be replaced by the tip of something hard--and cold. He closed his eyes and nodded once, giving his final permission, and felt her pushing in.

The tip slid in easily--it was thicker than her fingers, but she’d prepared him well enough. The rest took a bit firmer pushing, and there was that wet sensation again as she covered the shaft in more oil before taking hold of his waist and pushing deeper into him. Culled sucked in a long breath as she pushed enough into him that he could feel the hilt pressing against his opening, then stopped to give him time to settle.

She leaned into him, pressing her breasts against his back, adjusting herself slightly, and then she was moving. It was a strange feeling, but not unwelcome -the motion of her hips again his, the hard shaft filling him up, the vague shapes of a head and the veins sculpted into it rubbing inside him, then again on the way out, leaving him hollow for a second before thrusting back into him again; a little surer, a little faster with each thrust. Cullen sighed, letting his shoulders drop, letting himself welcome the feeling of being filled, and emptied, and filled, and emptied again.

“Look at the two of us,” she whispered against his back, one hand sneaking up his chest to run her nails lightly down his breast. “What a sight we are.”

Cullen hummed a response, the jagged scratching of her nails sending shocks down his stomach, stirring his cock awake again.

“Imagine what a sight it would be,” she continued. “If Cassandra walked in here, right now.”

Cullen’s eyes sprung open, his cock betraying him with a twitch at the thought.

“Imagine if they came back together, all three of them,” she teased, scratching him harder as her other hand firmed her grasp on his hip and her thrusts became sharper, pushing him harder onto the table. “What would Sister Nightingale say if she saw you like this, giving all of yourself to me? What of sweet lady Josephine?”

Cullen moaded loudly, his voice breaking as she thrust into him hard, then again, and again, giving him no respite now, her fingernails on his hip biting into his skin as hard as the ones on his chest. His cock twitched, aching to be touched, but she paid it no mind.

“Would your council be wiser, I wonder, Commander,” she said between thrusts, one, another, “If we all took it when you’re like this, spread out to me as I will?” -- _hard_.

His breath was coming in short gasps now, in the pace of her thrusts, pleasure building inside him as she found the place inside him and dug into it, again, and again, her nails biting deep enough to cut into his skin. He let his head fall back, his eyes falling closed, he was almost there again, _almost_...

Her hand gripped his balls hard enough to hurt, and Cullen groaned in frustration as she denied him release again.

“Not yet.” 

He slumped over the table, breathing hard against the woodwork, again trying to keep himself from screaming. She was going to kill him, this cursed, evil woman.

“Haven’t I paid enough already?” he gasped, knowing this wouldn’t help his case.

She didn’t answer, but with a swift motion of her hips she pulled out, then pushed him forward, forcing him down to almost laying over the table. She reached beyond him then, taking the map back from where she’d pushed it away and laying it out before him, then taking the larger pins back and placing them over where they’d been -Leliana’s over Redcliffe, Josephine’s over Denerim, and his near the Storm Coast. She was… she was rebuilding the same discussion they’d had this morning.

A jerk of his hips, her feet tipping his to spread out his legs, and she was inside him again, one sharp thrust, just as he’d done to her earlier. Cullen heaved, surprised as the shaft entered him again with little warning -this was a little rougher than he’d expected. She reached ahead, weaving her fingers through the disarrayed curls of his hair, then pulled his head back.

“Leliana, Josephine, thank you for your timely arrival, as usual,” she greeted, in her best formal Inquisitor voice, turning his head around to look at where they would normally have been standing. Then, to where was his own usual place, “Cassandra, I’m so glad you could join us today.”

Cullen swallowed, feeling his cheeks flushing. He knew there was no one there but them, but still, this kind of play was--he looked away quickly, but could still see the shape of Cassandra standing right in front of him, from the corner of his eye, could hear the ruffling of Josephine’s dress to his right. He halfway wanted to die of embarrassment right there, but his cock, the little traitor, shuddered with want.

She let go of his hair, running her hands down his back until they found his hips, and then she was thrusting again. Slow, gentle now, a long thrust into him, then lazily drawing out. She leaned over him and planted a kiss on the curve of his spine.

“Now that we’re all here,” she continued, her voice softer now as she fucked him slowly, like they had all the time in the world. “Please explain your strategy again, Commander.”

“My what?”

She clicked her tongue, her hand running lower down his back to give his ass a quick smack. “Your strategy, _Commander_. You were so sure of it this morning, perhaps you can convince us this time, with another run down?”

Cullen snorted, almost rolling his eyes. He shifted, steadying himself on one arm and adjusting his hips so she could slide more cleanly into him, then reached out for the smaller pins he used to mark his troops. He placed two by the sides of the river he’d marked earlier.

“First, we flank the escape routes by sea,“ he started.

There was a warm feeling on his chest -she found the forgotten rune and brought it to his breast again, pressing it over his nipple and letting it pulse against him. Cullen recounted the same route he’d drawn earlier, placing more pins on the map where a troop would stand, or scouts would run ahead, while she moved him behind, meeting him with steady thrusts, stretching him, filling him.

The lull of his voice carried through the room now, punctuated with the occasional gasp when she found the place in him again and prodded against it, her own breath coming in shorter, louder sighs now--the shaft inside her must have been doing its work too. He could feel the tips of her nipples rubbing against his back, and it was maddening that he couldn’t turn around and take her breasts in his hands, his mouth, like this. At some point of his case Cullen’s words trailed into half-coherent mumbles--his cock was trapped against the edge of the table, and he grinded his groin into it, desperate for some friction.

“Touch me,” he finally gasped, not above begging her for release.

“No,” she grumbled into his shoulder, biting into his skin then as the jerking of her hips grew faster again.

She propped herself up on one arm too, pushed his head back against the table, and fucked him in earnest now--in quick, deep thrusts, angled to please him just right, just where she knew it would make him moan louder. Her nails bit into his head, fingers tugging at his hair, and Cullen let himself go, at the mercy of her whims, as he would ever be.

One, two, he thought she’d stop him any time once again, but she let him seek his pleasure grating against the table as she filled him to the brim, again and again. Her own moans resounded in his ear now, echoing his, filling the room with the sound of their depravity--he was certain the guards outside could hear everything, and it made him want to groan even louder, for _everyone_ to hear.

“I think, C-Commander,” she panted, “I think I see your point now. D-do you see it, ladies?”

And it was that word, that one word, the way she drawled that _ladies_ , thick in accent so familiar but still so foreign to his Fereldan ears, that sent him over the edge--he could hear the sound of agreement in his mind, that grunt Cassandra would make, the little hum of approval from Josephine, and-- with a jerk of his head and a grunt dying on his throat, Cullen came seeing stars, spending his seed on the edge of the table, the floor, dripping over their toes.

She rode him to completion, still gripping his hips tight, still thrusting into him, filling him until he was spent, a heap of limbs on the war table, struggling to catch his breath even as hers still caught in her throat.

“D-do you see _my_ point now, Commander?” she whispered into his skin, her fingers turning from biting to comforting on his hair, grazing the patch of scratches she’d left there.

Cullen allowed himself a moment to gather himself through the white noise of his orgasm, then with a deep breath he steadied himself, pushing back against the weight of her so she had no choice but to stand, stumbling a step backwards, the shaft leaving him in the sudden movement. It was an even stranger sensation, this one--feeling completely filled one moment, then emptied out the next.

She watched him as Cullen turned, grabbed the belts of her contraption and started unbuckling it as swiftly as he could, his eyes still glazed, his cock still twitching as the last of his release washed over him. He expected her to stop him, but she didn’t move as he did away with buckles and belts, pulled the toy from inside her and replaced it with his own fingers again, pulling her against him by the waist, his mouth searching hers with the hunger he’d contained throughout this play. It was a fine jest, and he’d taken his pleasure where she’d given, but he’d be damned if a glass cock would take her climax away from him.

She stirred awake as if from a haze then, gripped his arms for balance, kissing him with the same hunger in her mouth as in her core. Grinding herself against his hand, willing his fingers deeper inside her, and deeper still, harder, _deeper_ , until she came again, with a cry he was sure was meant to be heard all across the Keep.

Good. Let the whole world know.

They stood there for--he couldn’t tell how long, toppled over each other; drowsy, drunk in the feeling, the sounds, the smell of each other. Cullen found himself cradled in her breast, truly spent after all, relishing in the touch of her hand on his hair, the other rubbing the low of his back in small circles.

“How do you feel?” she asked, running her fingers down his buttocks and back up. “Here?”

Cullen huffed, burying his face in her neck. “A bit... slack, to be true.”

She chuckled, kissing his temple. “And everything alright,” she continued, touching her chest, where her heart would be, then his. “Here?”

Cullen inhaled, taking in the scent of her skin, her hair, the touch of her fingers on him. He nodded, his hand holding her waist a little bit tighter. He loved her. Games were games, they had their chuckles, but above all--he lover her. There were no arguments, around the war table or otherwise, no academic disagreements, no games of who could rein the other in harder, that would change that.

“Thank you for, ah,” he cleared his throat, “Reconsidering my advice.”

There was a slap on his ass, and Cullen laughed with her, enjoying this moment before she inevitably had to go, her ever busy Inquisitorial schedule likely lagging far behind by now.

As if on cue, she stirred in his arms, looking around at the mess they’d made. Cullen nudge his nose one last time into her neck, then willed himself into standing up straight too, letting her go as he stretched his cramped arms and legs.

“You go ahead,” he said, watching as she quickly picked through their clothes, and had her trousers back on already, now looking for the front side of her tunic. “I’ll clean up.”

She gave him a pained smiled, apologizing in advance. He knew she’d stay and help him if she could, but it didn't cost him to come in a few minutes late to his meetup with Rylen later in the afternoon if it spared her having to grovel before a bunch of Orlesian nobles for being half an hour late to the day’s session of tea and morally questionable scheming. He turned to the table, starting to place at least the maps back in order, when she sneaked under his arm to reach beyond him, for the rune still sitting on top of a book, still glowing and stirring lightly. Cullen felt his cheeks flush a deep red as he remembered the feeling of that little devilish  rune against his cock, and gave her a look as she slipped it into her pocket.

“What?” she asked with a grin, “Orlesians are a boring lot, you know. If I can make tea time with Madame Du-Something-Something a little more enjoyable...”

Cullen raised an eyebrow at her, shuddering at the thought of pleasuring himself in the company of Orlesians. If he’d needed some mental image to kill the urge in his cock to rise again while watching her dress up, this was just the one.

She ran her hands down her dress coat, straightening any imaginary folds, then through her hair, straightening the very real mess they’d made of it.

“You look perfect,” he muttered. It was true. She looked perfect to him, her tunic disheveled, her hair in a tangly mess, the distinct smell of her sex, and his, lingering around her. It was heaven.

She gave him that look, knowing full well what he meant, and finally gave up on tidying herself up. “Ah, Josephine will sniff me out a mile away and come running to preen me anyway.” She gave the war table a last once-over, then planted a last kiss on his lips.

“I’ll be thinking of you,” she whispered with a wink, before turning away and springing to the great doors.

Cullen watched her go, grimacing as he tried to lean on the table only to be sharply reminded of how… tender his behind still was. At his feet, the contraption still glinted in the afternoon light, the shaft looking a little bit bigger than before, now that it’d been inside of him. Cullen cleared his throat, looking around for something to hide the proof of the crime in when he left--the best bet would be folding it into his jacket and bolting, hoping he could haste to her quarters to dispose of it in a drawer before someone ran into him and tried to make too much conversation. “No distractions,” she’d said. Right.

Cullen grinned to himself as he quickly rearranged the war table to more or less where they’d left it before, then grimaced again as he had to bend down to pick up his trousers and step back into them. In retrospect, her play to punish him for his stubbornness and settle this argument at once had been to make sure he wouldn’t be sitting through the rest of his meetups today, to be sure, but--well.

He _was_ still right about it, in the end.


End file.
